Travelers
by RugitusAstra
Summary: "I don't think," Steve cleared his throat. "I don't think Amestris is on the same… planet, exactly." Ed frowned. "Planet," he said to the translating device. The device replied in his language, then in English. "A world; a large, natural object that orbits around a star," the device said calmly. Ed swore.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: none of these characters belong to me and I'm not making any money from this story.

This has been sitting on my computer for God knows how long, gaining a scene here and there. It's set post Age of Ultron in the MCU and is AU after/during Ed's final transmutation. Please review to let me know what you think, if there's enough interest, I'll keep working on it. Thanks and happy reading!

* * *

Clint swore as he knocked a grenade out of the air with an arrow and turned for the next shot, bracing for the shock-wave. The orange light played over the concrete roof and Clint shot again, at a living target this time. Hit. The battlefield raged around him in a mess of chaos, action and reaction, everything moving. Clint knocked an arrow and let it fly, ever true, every part of his body still except one hand, two fingers. He aimed and shot, aimed and shot, his mind whirring with calculations, observations—

"Behind you, Cap."

Steve took out the Hydra agent attempting to surprise him with ease and finished with a quick salute in Clint's direction.

Suddenly, the very air was charged and every hair on the archer's body stood straight up. Clint spun around at a deafening, all-encompassing _thrum_ of power from behind him. He just caught a glimpse of the pillar of blue light coming down from the heavens before it disappeared, leaving two figures in a street a few blocks away.

"That Thor?" Rogers said, just as Stark filled the com link himself.

"Holy shit, two guys just _fell from the sky_ ," Stark exclaimed. "You seeing this, Barton?"

"Seeing. Still working on believing."

"Not Thor, then?" Captain America asked.

"Negative. There're two of them, both blond. One's pretty beat up, I think the other one's dead. They're not Asgardians."

"Last I checked, you weren't an expert on Asgard, Stark. How do you know?" Sam chimed in.

"They don't come in pint-size, Bird-Brain."

"Natasha?" Steve asked over Sam's sputtering at "Bird Brain."

"On it."

Clint tracked his partner as she fought her way toward the blond figures through the remains of the forces that had been inhabiting a Hydra lab just a few hours ago. There weren't many left, but they had inflicted some heavy damage on the handful of city blocks in which the Avengers had kept them contained. A few buildings were in danger of collapse and Clint desperately hoped the civilians had been smart for once and gotten out of the area.

The live blond was too busy emptying the contents of his stomach to notice Natasha's approach.

" _Shit,_ " Clint breathed as the blond's head snapped up. "Tasha, _get out of there_!"

But it was too late. Clint ran to the edge of the roof and jumped across the alley to the next one.

"Steve!"

"On my way. What's going on?"

"He's fighting," Clint said tightly, making another jump.

"Natasha?"

"Losing."

The blond was pulling walls up from the fucking ground, tearing down pieces of buildings to toss at Natasha, never letting her get close enough to make contact. She'd already taken several hard hits.

"Use your fucking gun, Nat!"

"He's protecting the other one," Nat answered, breathing heavily as she dodged a chunk of brick wall. "He's scared, Clint."

"Funny, cause it kinda looks like he's trying to kill you!" Clint shouted.

"He doesn't speak English. Do you have a tranq arrow?"

Clint grunted the affirmative.

"I'll play distraction then," Steve added, approving Natasha's half-baked plan without qualm.

* * *

 **10 minutes earlier**

"Where's your toll?" the creepy little being asked with that sick, ever-present humor.

Edward Elric took a deep breath and forced his mouth into a grin wide enough to match Truth's, willing with all his might for this to work.

"Right there," he said jabbing his thumb over his shoulder toward the portal. "My portal of truth."

For an instant, he thought his hypothesis was right.

Then Truth laughed. _No. Nonononono, please, no._

"It never ceases to amaze me how stupid humans are, I had hope for you, Mr. Alchemist."

"It's my portal of truth! It's mine to give!" _It has to be, it has to be._

"Well, yes. But I like _equivalent_ trades, Mr. Alchemist. An alchemist's portal of truth is tethered to their very being, you'd be dead within the month."

Ed felt as though he'd been impaled again, this time through the heart. He'd never get to see Al grow up. Probably never be able to see him healthy again. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to reply.

"I'll do it anyw-"

"Wait just a moment, Mr. Alchemist, I have a proposition for you."

His surprise must have shown, because Truth laughed again.

"One of your kind managed to escape into another area of the world, and is about to cause some trouble. I need someone to deal with him and you've shown yourself to be acceptable at catching criminals. Call it a favor. The favor plus your right arm will get you your brother's body and soul plus two tickets back to Amestris when it's finished. I'll even return your automail. What do you say?"

Ed mentally made a list of the pros and cons. Pro: Al's body back and both of them alive. Well, did it matter much what the cons were?

"Well? Choose!"

"I'll take the deal." Ed answered, feeling as though he was selling his soul to the devil.

"See you soon, Mr. Alchemist," Truth laughed.

And Ed fell. And fell. And fell. Faster and faster until he thought he'd surely be dead on impact… wherever he was going.

The air he tumbled through was pitch black and never ending.

And then he hit: feet first, stumbling to his knees and empting the contents of his stomach all over the surface he landed on. Pavement.

His stomach heaved and his head spun. He vaguely recognized the sound of battle a little way's away. But not here. He had a moment of peace as his digestive system decided to stop rebelling and then his head snapped up at the sound of glass cracking under a boot.

His hands clapped together without conscious thought.

* * *

Steve barreled around the corner to see Natasha leap off of ground that was attempting to _reach up and grab her_. The pavement made a fist where she'd been an instant before, the massive hand closing with a deafening, bone-crushing thud.

The captain made a b-line for the small blond figure, his fist meeting his face just as his hands met the brick wall. The wall turned on Natasha, bricks flying out like missiles. Steve wasted one instant glancing sideways at his teammate, and that was all the blond needed to recover. He was up and fighting, a blade having suddenly appeared in his right hand.

 _Damn_ , he was fast. Steve took his first hit less than five beats in. The man's right elbow came down hard on Steve's forearm, breaking his grip on the man's left arm with way too much ease. Steve shifted his focus to that too-strong arm and felt a sick sense of recognition. The man had a metal arm that was achingly similar to Bucky's. The momentary lack of concentration earned the captain a kick in the gut that almost knocked him to the ground. The man followed up with a swipe of that blade ( _not a knife_ ) that Steve barely managed to dodge.

"Hawkeye. ETA."

The man fumbled a block when Steve spoke, meeting his eyes for a moment with confusion before Steve buried a knee in his gut.

The man crumpled, his head smacking the pavement. He immediately rolled away from Steve, lurching to his feet unsteadily with his back to an alcove in the wall that remained completely untouched by whatever kind of powers the man had.

Suddenly, Steve recalled what Natasha had said earlier. _He's protecting the other one_. The man's eyes were wild and desperate and he was drawn up as tall as his small frame and injuries could manage, as if attempting to block Steve from seeing the figure lying against the wall behind him. His eyes screamed _fight me_ , and realization dawned on the captain. Not ' _fight_ me," but "fight _me_."

Steve put out his hands in a gesture of peace just as Clint's arrow buried itself in the man's left shoulder. Shock blossomed across his blood streaked face and he stumbled forward, falling hard onto one knee. He looked up at Steve with pure, unadulterated _fear_ for a split-second.

Then he clapped his hands together and slapped them down onto the pavement.

The ground rose up and the wall came down in a cacophony of crashing and merging materials, leaving a perfectly round quarter-dome hiding the man and his ward from the Avengers' view.

* * *

Ed yanked the arrow out of his shoulder, relieved that it wasn't shaped to tear. He stumbled over to the wall, worried out of his mind at not being able to see Al in the pitch black. He laughed shakily when he heard him speak.

"Brother?"

"Here," Ed answered. "Mostly," he added as his sense of _up_ shifted and he almost fell on top of Al.

"Brother! What's wrong?" Al said, attempting to sit up. Ed pushed him back.

"It's nothing. I took a hit. I think it was drugged. Just a little woozy."

Al grumbled, but lay back down.

"Umm, Ed?"

"Hmm?" he answered, his thoughts fuzzy. He couldn't feel his fingertips.

"Is there any way you could get me some pants?" Ed's eyes snapped open and he burst out laughing. "It's not funny!"

"No, no, I'm—here," Ed said, still chuckling but yanking off his mostly ruined black tank to use for material. He transmuted it into the longest pair of pants he could manage without making them too thin. They ended up hitting about mid-thigh.

Ed could barely stay awake, but Al was worse off.

"Don't fight it, Al. Sleep. I'll take care of it."

And Ed was alone.

A knock sounded on the dome.

* * *

Steve rapped on the curved wall as Clint tried to bring Natasha around behind him. She'd been hit in the head by one of the projectile bricks, but she'd mostly dodged, only receiving a glancing blow. She'd be okay. The two beings inside the impossible dome, however… Steve could've sworn he'd seen the 'dead' one shift.

He knocked again.

The wall _crackled_ and a narrow slot opened up in it at eye level. Well, not Steve's eye-level.

The eyes that peered out were the color of molten gold. Not human then, at least not entirely. Steve held his hands up again.

"I mean you no harm," he said slowly, looking the man straight in the eye. The man looked back, seemingly searching his eyes for deceit, then nodded slowly. He jerked his head in Hawkeye's direction and said something in a language Steve had never heard before.

"Hawkeye doesn't mean you any harm either."

"As long as he doesn't mean _me_ any harm," Hawkeye added vindictively, not looking up from Natasha's still form. "Which doesn't seem fucking likely."

"Not helping," Steve said sharply, looking over at the archer. "Put your bow down."

"Um, are you sure this is a good idea, Cap?" Tony's voice sounded through the com link.

"I'm sure." Steve looked back at the golden-eyed man, a promise in his gaze. "We are not your enemies as long as you don't make it that way."

Clint sighed and set his bow down.

"Is everything else under control, Stark?" Steve asked.

"Everything's ship-shape, Cap. Wanda and Sam have it covered. I'm heading your way."

"Good. Stay out of sight."

"Roger that."

The golden eyed man gave him one last searching look, then glanced back into the dome.

The slot closed with a burst of blue lightning and the walls of the dome peeled back to let the man out. Boy. Let the _boy_ out. He was _young_. Too young to fight as well as he did, maybe his species aged differently or something.

Steve took a closer look at him as the wall melded back together with more blue energy. He had removed the arrow. Blood was flowing slowly across his bare skin, dripping off his fingertips onto the pavement and soaking into the waistband of his pants. His shirt was gone.

He said something slowly in his language and Steve shook his head. He tried again, sounding different this time, and Steve shrugged helplessly. He tried a handful of times, getting more and more frustrated.

"Those are different languages," Natasha said roughly from her spot on the ground, following up with a series of coughs and curses. "He's seeing if you know any of them."

"Do you know any of them?" Steve asked.

"No."

That gave Steve pause. If Natalia Romanova didn't know even one of the languages the kid had tried, then they were dealing with a foreigner indeed.

The boy ran his metal hand, now sans blade, through his golden bangs with frustration, scowling, and Steve noticed just how many scars littered the young man's body. He winced as his eyes landed on the mass of scar tissue around the spot metal met flesh, unable to not think of a matching set of scars on another man… Those gold eyes were burrowing into his own and Steve snapped back to the present. The boy quirked an eyebrow at him, then mimed clapping his hands.

Immediately, Steve shifted into a defensive position. The boy shook his head and gestured to the dome.

Steve nodded uncertainly, but didn't relax. A clap of hands later, there was a, a carving, he supposed, on the dome. It was a very detailed image of an old-fashioned hospital room.

"For you?" Steve asked, gesturing toward the boy. He shook his head rapidly and gestured over his shoulder, his eyes pleading. "For the other one."

Gold eyes never left Steve's face as he raised a hand to his ear.

"Tony. Call Dr. Cho, she's going to have a lot of work on her hands."

"Got it."

Steve met the boy's eyes and nodded, willing him to understand.

He said something else in his language, fiercely this time, pain evident on his face, and Steve didn't think it was from his own wounds.

"We won't hurt him, I promise."

The boy bit his lip in indecision, clearly working on hope more than actual understanding of what Steve was saying. He huffed in frustration, ruffling his hair again, then turned around, showing his back to Steve for the first time.

When he clapped and placed his hands on the dome, it defied physics, the crackling blue energy following it as it was absorbed back into the wall and ground, leaving the spot looking exactly as it had ten minutes before.

The boy hurried over to the other being, turning around to look at Steve again, his eyes daring the super soldier to try to hurt his ward. Steve swallowed. All he could think when he saw the other alien was _dead_. He was painfully, impossibly thin, every bone visible, hair long and brittle. Whatever- _whoever_ had done this to him…

Steve's murderous thoughts were interrupted by the quinjet landing in the street. Steve gestured towards it, wrenching his gaze to the conscious of the pair of aliens. Clint and Natasha were both upright and heading for the jet, Natasha leaning on the archer for support.

Steve stepped towards the aliens when the boy didn't respond. The boy _growled_ , his body wound as tight as a spring, ready for a fight, his gold eyes flashing dangerously. The older man stopped in his tracks and held his hands up again. The boy stopped growling, but didn't take his eyes off of Steve as he scooped the other alien up gently. He waited until Steve started toward the jet to head that way himself, unwilling to turn his back on the super soldier while carrying such precious cargo.

Steve felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at the feeling of turning his back on this dangerous, hell, _deadly_ , man. He walked to the quinjet first anyway, keeping his eyes on Sam's face, watching from the back of the jet, trusting his friend to let him know in time if the boy decided he didn't need their help after all. They had almost made it before Sam's face lit up with alarm. Steve spun around, expecting to see those molten eyes coming for him. Instead, he saw the boy going down hard, turning mid-fall to catch the impact on his left side, shielding his friend with his own battered body. Steve caught the pair just before they hit the ground. The boy scrambled out of his grip in an instant, bringing his unconscious friend with him. He tried to glare at Steve, but his eyes kept losing focus, finally starting to succumb to the tranq Clint had shot him with.

Steve held out a hand cautiously, still crouched on the pavement.

"Come on. I'm not going to hurt him. Just let me help," Steve said softly, trying to pour the meaning of his words into his voice.

Slowly, the boy reached toward Steve's hand, gripping it firmly. The captain stood, pulling both of them to their feet. The boy bent over to pick up his friend and just about fell over again. Steve put a hand on his shoulder. The boy shrugged it off and pushed on, lifting his friend with a grunt and staggering toward the jet.

* * *

The doctor took one look at the pair of blonds and started spouting out instructions to the other medical personnel.

The awake one hadn't managed to stay that way on the way to Cho's clinic, though not for lack of trying. Tony hadn't thought it was possible to just _will_ tranqs not to work, but the kid seemed to be able to do just that. The almost-dead one had yet to make an appearance in the land of the living.

The doctors hooked the almost-dead one up to a multitude of medical machinery, and put the other one in the cradle.

"What happened to them?" Cho asked without looking up from the cradle.

"Well, they fell out of the sky," Tony said unhelpfully.

"We don't know," Steve stated, ignoring Tony's comment. "This one speaks a handful of languages, but I don't think any of them are from this planet. He's been trained to fight."

"Obviously," Tony snorted. "He took _Natasha_ down."

"That was with his powers," Steve clarified. "His hand-to-hand is… very good. If he's as old as he looks, he's going to be a force to be reckoned with in a decade."

"But no super strength?"

"No super strength. But his metal arm is strong, and I wouldn't be surprised if one of his legs is the same."

Tony leaned over and rapped his knuckles on each of the boy's legs in turn, then shook his hand out.

"Yep," he said, grimacing. "The left one's definitely not skin and bone."

"How long until he wakes up?" Steve asked Dr. Cho.

"At least a few hours. Should we restrain him?"

Steve thought for a moment, calculating caution against how much the kid would fight if he woke up tied down.

"No. Make sure he can see the other one, in case he wakes up. I don't think he'll try anything as long as he knows he's being cared for. And be careful."

Helen nodded and Steve strode out of the clinic, thinking about some SHEILD files he'd been looking at the week before, concerning a certain prototype…

* * *

Ed woke up to a white ceiling and the smell of antiseptic. The big man really had brought them to a hospital, then. His body was curiously devoid of pain. He had sustained a multitude of injuries in the fight with Father, as well as in his most recent tussle. The big guy could certainly pack a punch.

He looked around the room, immediately breathing a sigh of relief when his eyes landed on Alphonse to his left, still pale and scrawny, but alive, beautifully, wondrously _alive_. Ed moved to sit up, bracing for the pain in his punctured shoulder _and_ arm—that didn't come. A visual investigation confirmed the absence of holes, and a hasty examination with his metal hand confirmed it. The wounds weren't just closed, they were _non-existent_. No stitches, no scar tissue, nothing.

Well, that was weird. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he made his way over to Al's bed, his right foot shivering from the cold tile floor. He noticed with a touch of embarrassment that his standard black pants had been swapped out for light blue cotton pajama bottoms.

There were multiple machines spitting out readings on Alphonse, but Ed only know what one was: the heart rate monitor was beeping steadily. Ed almost wept with joy as leaned over his little brother.

"We did it, Al," he breathed. "We actually did it!"

"Brother?" Al murmured softly, his eyelids fluttering open.

"Hey," Ed said, practically beaming. "How are you feeling?"

"M'tired. I haven't been tired in… in _so long_." Al couldn't seem to keep his eyes open. Ed laughed softly. "Stay w'me?"

"Of course, Al," Ed answered. "Always."

* * *

Steve walked in an hour later to see the gold-eyed boy curled up loosely on his side, one arm pillowing his head and the other thrown protectively over the form of the bed's official occupant, both blonds fast asleep.

He left the room quietly; his questions could wait.

* * *

"Ed," the golden-eyed boy proclaimed, gesturing to himself. "Ed Elric."

"Steve Rogers," Steve answered, reaching out his hand. Ed took it and shook, grinning.

"Al," he said as he pointed at the bed's sleeping occupant, then a few more words in his language.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Ed shrugged, nodding. He pointed to Al again.

"Alphonse Elric."

"He's your brother?"

Ed shrugged, grinning again. He seemed to find this whole guessing game fairly amusing. Steve opened his sketchbook and drew something he hoped represented a family to Ed, a woman, a man, and two little boys standing in front of a house.

He flipped it around so Ed could see. He nodded rapidly, pointing to the bigger of the two boys in the picture.

"Ed." Then at the smaller of the two: "Al."

"Here, I did some digging and found this," Steve said, pulling out a device a bit bigger than a smart phone. "It should help us translate."

He handed it to Ed. The kid looked at it, then back at Steve, clearly confused.

"Here," he said, reaching for the device again. He double tapped the screen and tapped the icon that read: random. A picture of a table showed up on the screen. He gave it back to Ed. He still looked confused. Steve reached over and tapped the picture.

"Table," it said. Ed looked alarmed. Steve tapped the microphone labeled 'English.'

"Table," he repeated into the device. It chirped affirmatively.

Ed tapped the microphone and said slowly: "Table."

Steve smiled, then pointed to the other microphone icon, this one labeled 'unknown,' then pointed at Ed, then Al. Ed's face lit up with comprehension. He tapped the icon and said the word that, hopefully, meant 'table' in his native language. The device repeated it back to him in its own voice. Ed grinned.

"Knock yourself out. I'll check in tomorrow."

* * *

Steve just about jumped out of his skin when he walked into the Elrics' room in the clinic to: "Hi, Steve. How are you today?"

Ed had an accent, a tinge of _otherness_ to his th's and a handful of vowels, and the cadence sounded foreign to Steve's ears. But _damn_. It'd been less than twenty-four hours!

"Whoa! How much have you learned already?"

"Just a bit. English is… weird."

"Just a bit?" Steve managed. "You're speaking in full sentences?"

Ed frowned and said: "Sentences."

The device spit back an answer in Ed's language, then in English: "Words combined in a meaningful way."

"Ah. Yes. I am speaking in full sentences. I do not think there are any… I do not know word. Bad words? Not supposed to say?"

"Swear words?"

"These are words you do not say to children and mothers, yes?"

"Yeah," Steve answered, trying not to laugh.

"There are no in here," Ed accused, grinning devilishly. "Normally, first thing I learn in new word-group. Swear words. More fun."

His brother shifted in his sleep and Ed's grin softened.

"Al not learn much English yet. He sleeps. I teach him when awake."

"Ed," Steve started. "How old are you?"

"How old," Ed said, and the device spits back an explanation in his language, then in English. "I have sixteen years. Al has fifteen."

" _Shit_."

"Ah, that is swear-word, yes?" Ed laughed. "Shit, shit, shit."

"I'm sorry, you're just very… young."

"Have not been child for long time," Ed said flippantly, leaning back in his chair.

"Ed, you're _sixteen_ —"

"Not child," Ed insisted, cutting Steve off. "Not for long time."

"Whatever you say."

There was awkward silence for a minute, but Alphonse waking up broke it. All of Ed's attention was immediately aimed at his brother as they spoke rapidly in their language. Steve caught his name once or twice.

"Al says thank you for help," Ed translated awkwardly. Steve did not get the feeling that Ed was not one to give his thanks often or easily. Al elbowed him. "My thank you for help, also," Ed added grudgingly.

"You're welcome, it's the least I could do. Where do you boys come from?"

Ed translated quickly for Al, then answered.

"We are from Amestris. Where is this?"

"I've never heard of Amestris. We're in New York City."

"What country?" Ed asked, after translating for Al.

"The United States of America."

Ed and Al spoke rapidly for a few minutes.

"We have never heard of this place. You know where Xing is? Drachma?"

"No," Steve said carefully. "Listen, Ed, I think we're a very long way away from… Amestris."

"…How far?" Ed asked suspiciously.

"I don't think," Steve cleared his throat. "I don't think Amestris is on the same… planet, exactly."

Ed frowned.

"Planet," he said to the device. The device spoke back in his language, then in English.

"A world; a large, natural object that orbits around a star," the device said calmly.

"Shit," Ed swore.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So instead of finishing chapter 3, I revamped this chapter a bit... sorry. I wasn't entirely happy with it, and couldn't move on until I worked on it a bit more. Any feedback on this would be awesome! Really, please.

I'm hoping to get another chapter out before summer break, but I'm starting research this week, so it could go either way. The good news is that the story is already all plotted out, so regardless of how long it takes for me to finish it, it will be complete one day! Probably over the summer.

Anyway, I'd really appreciate it if y'all read this one again (or for the first time) and let me know what you think.

Thanks!

* * *

Chapter 2

Ed sat at a conference table with the Avengers and Nick Fury the next week. His English hadn't improved at the same dramatic speed as it had in the first 24 hours, but his vocabulary was still growing at a rate that was—quite frankly—alarming.

"The being that sent me and Al here, he said that he needed a favor. That someone from our… planet," Ed managed, obviously still trying to wrap his head around that particular fact. "is here—"

"Well, that's a little obvious," Clint laughed, not kindly at all. "You're sitting right there."

"Someone else, asshat." Steve didn't know who had taught Ed how to swear in English, but he planned to find out. The kid was a menace. "I do not know who it is, but Truth said it was a… I do not know English word. In Amestris, we say 'alchemist.'"

"Wait, like turning metal into gold, alchemist?" Tony asked, leaning forward.

"Alchemy can turn things into gold yes, but that is just one—" He caught the watch that Tony threw at his head with ease. "—of the many things the science can do, barely even worth mentioning."

"Well, do it then," Tony demanded watching the blond boy like a hawk. Ed clapped his hands and touched the watch with an air of disinterest. "Toss it back, toss it back!"

Tony caught the watch and inspected it.

"How the fuck did you do that?"

"With fucking alchemy. As I was saying—"

"No, really, that's atomic manipulation. You just changed the nature of the atoms of my watch!"

"Yes," Ed said slowly, as if he was talking to a child. "This is alchemy. Comprehension, deconstruction, reconstruction."

"Of atoms?" Tony exclaimed, fascinated.

"If necessary, yes. Transmuting to gold is illegal, though, messes up whole country if alchemist make own money. As was saying-"

"So you just broke the law?" Steve asked, slightly surprised.

"Is illegal in Amestris. This is not Amestris, no?" Ed explained, grinning slyly. "Was saying, I don't know who the alchemist is who is here, but I do not think Truth would have done this if was not someone dangerous."

"So you and this truth guy are buddies then?" Clint questioned.

"No," Ed said shortly, eyes flashing.

"Oh-kay…" Clint said, rolling his eyes. Steve was going to have to speak with him. He knew he was protective of Natasha, but this was getting ridiculous.

"What can this alchemist do?" Fury asked, straight to the point.

"I don't know. If he's been to the Gate, he might be able to transmute without a circle, but—"

"A circle?" Steve questioned.

"An alchemical array. Like—" Ed started scratching a circle in the conference table.

"Sure," Tony muttered. "Just deface my stuff. No problem, it's just mahogany."

Ed paid no heed, continuing to carve a design inside of the circle. He blew the shavings off of the circle and placed his fingertips on the edges. The circle crackled with blue energy and a wooden sculpture of a medieval suit of armor rose up from the center. The light died, leaving the six-inch-tall figure behind on the conference table, which was now covered in strange, hash-like marks around the circle.

Ed picked up the figure and tossed it to Tony.

"This is basic alchemy. I could do this when child. Most alchemists need an array to transmute, only ones who have been to the Gate can make circle with just hands, see?" Ed explained.

"Well, I can't imagine he'll be too much of a problem if he has to stop and draw all the time," Fury commented, but Ed shook his head vigorously.

"Wrong. My commander, he is Flame Alchemist. He makes fire, yes? He uses arrays, but all he needs is gloves. Array on back and make spark when snap." Ed snapped his middle finger and thumb to make his point. "Fwoosh. Fire."

"Commander?" Steve asked, frowning.

"Yes. He is… I do not know English word. Not general yet, has his own office, his own men." Ed's face fell a bit. "I suppose he can transmute without a circle now."

"That's a bad thing?" Fury questioned. "It seems like it's pretty useful."

"Yes. Yes, it is. I—" Ed looked vaguely upset. "When you go to Gate, you… you have to pay, yes? Mustang was forced into the reaction by— by an enemy. He lost his sight."

"Oh," Steve breathed, looking at Ed's metal arm.

"So what did you give?" Clint asked. Steve could've throttled him.

"It does not matter. This alchemist—"

"Your arm, right? You gave your arm?" Clint pushed.

"Yes," Ed answered quietly. "But not for that. You do not give the Gate, the Gate takes."

"So what'd you get for your arm? Better have been something worthwhile,"

"Barton!" Steve barked. "Show some tact."

"I'm just asking a—"

"Stop. Does not matter. Is past," Ed interrupted, forcing a change in topic. "Was saying, alchemists can be dangerous in any situation. Once, my commander carved his array into his own hand when someone took his gloves. I knew alchemist had tattoos of arrays on hands, he could make things… I don't know the word. Boom."

"Explode? He could make things explode?" Fury asked.

"Yes. He impaled me once," Ed said flippantly. "Still have scar."

"That's not disturbing at all," Sam muttered, eyeing Ed carefully.

"So you're saying this alchemist could do pretty much anything?" Fury asked.

"Yes. But probably only one thing well. Mustang has flames, Kimblee had explode-ness, Armstrong has sparkles, I have metal. And rock. And other things."

"I thought you said one thing," Natasha commented wryly.

"I am… what is word…" Ed grinned. "Special."

Tony laughed.

* * *

"We go back to hospital now?" Ed asked Steve as they left the conference room in Avengers Tower.

"We could. Unless you want to bring Alphonse here instead?" Steve asked. "We all live here anyway, so it would save the trips across the city. And there's more to do here."

"Does not matter to me. Is there radio here? Al likes radio."

Steve laughed and nodded. "So do I."

He felt the smile fade, though, as a thought crossed his mind.

"Ed, when you said commander, what did you mean by that?"

"Mustang? I don't know word. He's like my… boss, yes?"

"Oh. Okay, so you work for him? Like in his office?"

"No," Ed said, frowning. "I work for Amestris. Like Mustang and the other soldiers. I don't work in office."

"You're saying you're in the military?" Steve asked, just to be sure.

"Yes," Ed said, like it was obvious. "Did I not say right in English?"

"You didn't really say at all," Steve said grimly. "Why are you in the military?"

"I need things military has."

"Ed. You're sixteen," Steve said forcefully.

"I am not child, Steve. I have told you this." Ed's eyes flashed.

"What kind of country lets children fight their wars for them?"

"I am not child."

"It's not right." Steve held firm, knowing he was wading into what Tony called "righteous fury mode," but unable, or unwilling, to let this go.

"I am not child, Steve!" Ed exclaimed, turning to face him.

"Yes, you are, Ed! You're a teenager!"

"I AM NOT CHILD!" Ed bellowed, looking as though he was ready to let that metal fist fly.

"It's not right, Ed, you have to see that!"

"It's none of your GODDAMN BUISNESS!" Steve took half a step back as the fury radiating off of the alchemist escalated. "I AM NOT STATE ALCHEMIST BECAUSE CAPTAIN-FUCKING-AMERICA APPROVED! Jesus Christ, I'm the fucking FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST! I PROBABLY OUT RANK YOU!"

Steve didn't back down, but he couldn't think of anything to say as Ed caught his breath. The silence was suddenly interrupted by slow applause from somewhere behind Steve.

"I think we're going to be friends, kid. Anyone that can shut Stars and Stripes up like that is a man I admire."

Steve sighed in irritation. _Tony_. Ed was pulled out of his rage by confusion. Steve saw him mouthing 'stars and stripes,' probably trying to reason out the meaning.

"There's not a chance you'd let me take a look at that shiny arm of yours, is there?" Tony asked.

"You are… mech-an-ic?" Ed replied doubtfully.

"Yessir! Well, sometimes." Tony said with a mocking salute. Ed shrugged and nodded, glaring at Steve one more time before he passed him to walk over to Tony.

"Careful, yes? Winry will death me if I brake arm again."

"Kill. She'll kill you," Tony laughed, his voice fading as the pair walked down the hall. "No worries, my friend, shiny-arm is in the hands of a genius."

Steve frowned, still troubled by the words of the golden alien. Maybe it was time to have a talk with the other Elric brother.

* * *

"It's really hooked up to your nerves? So you can feel this?" Tony asked excitedly, rapping on the forearm plate of Ed's arm.

"Yes. It does not hurt, though, I only feel…motion?" He looked to the older man for confirmation.

"Pressure? So you can feel something in your hand, or feel when something hits you, but you don't feel pain if you close your hand in the door or something?"

"Yes. I think that is right. English is not clear."

"Jesus, this must've hurt when you got it. The wires are literally attached to your nerves. What did they give you for the pain? Morphine?"

Ed shook his head.

"Do not know what is 'morphine,' but no thing for pain. Cannot do with drugs. Fucks up process."

Tony looked at the kid, then at the scarring next to the prosthetic limb that was obviously several years old.

"Jesus, Elric," Tony commented, a bit of admiration in his voice for the sheer balls. Ed laughed.

"Was not fun day."

"What about the day the pyrotechnics fan impaled you? That's what that scar's from, yeah?" Tony asked, pausing from unscrewing another plate to gesture at Ed's bare abdomen with his screwdriver.

"Yes. Not fun day, either. As scientist, though, very interesting."

"Cause the guy was blowing stuff up?"

"Yes Kimblee was 'blowing stuff up,' but is not so impressive when trying not to explode. Interesting is that you can use your own life as material in alchemy. Kimblee gave me need to test it."

"No idea what that means, kid."

"Healed with alchemy, using life as material."

"Wait, what?"

Ed huffed, frustrated at not being able to get his point across.

"Alchemy needs material, yes? Equivalent exchange. I was in hole, pole through body, no hospital. Had idea: use life, energy, yeah? Use life to heal me. Equivalent exchange."

"You're saying you pulled a pole out of your own body, then sacrificed some of your life force to heal the wound? Completely experimentally, without knowing what would happen?" Tony asked, ignoring the arm to focus on the probably insane teenager it belonged to.

"Had help with pole."

"Fuck, kid," Tony laughed. "You are batshit crazy, you know that?"

"Do not know what 'batshit' means, but think many people have said what you are saying," Ed answered, his grin razor sharp. Tony laughed harder.

"Same here, kid, same here." Tony fiddled with his wrench, suddenly serious. "Desperation is the world's best innovator, in my not-so-humble opinion."

Ed hummed in an interested sort of way. "There is story there, yes?"

"Yeah, I suppose." Tony tapped his chest where the arc reactor used to sit. "Had my own experimental surgery a few years back in a cave in the desert. Had a shit ton on little bits of metal working their way towards my heart. Yinsen—the man I was imprisoned with—make-shifted a car battery as an electromagnet to keep me alive."

Ed whistled. "Fixed now, though?"

"Yeah. Got it all taken care of just recently. Feels good, you know? I hadn't realized how much it was hanging over me, like the grim reaper always over my shoulder, waiting for something to go wrong." Tony shook his head as if to clear the thought and grinned. "Not that anything would've gone wrong, of course, I invented the damn thing."

The blond boy threw his head back and laughed. Tony grinned some more.

"So what's it like then, your world?" Tony asked once Ed had quieted down. Ed just shrugged.

"Normal, I guess," he started. Tony pointedly looked at Ed's arm and back again. Ed huffed. "Automail is normal! Lots of people have it. Alchemy's a bit rarer, but still. Tell me about this world! You and the others are what, a vigilante group or something? A sanctioned vigilante group?"

"Fine," Tony sighed, focus shifting back to the technological marvel under his wrench. "I suppose you could phrase it that way. Technically, we were formed by SHIELD, this—this international military group, I suppose, but it turns out they'd been infiltrated since the beginning by—you don't know what Nazis are, do you? Didn't think so—infiltrated by some assholes..."

* * *

"Alphonse?" Steve called, peeking his head into the private room.

"Steve," the thin boy said comfortably, seemingly pleasantly surprised as he looked up from his book. "Brother?"

"Ed's still at the tower. We had a… disagreement. He's with Tony."

Alphonse hummed with a lack of surprise.

"What was fight?" Al asked, waving him into the room.

"Er… it was about his position in the military." Steve took a seat next to the bed. Al hummed again. "I just don't understand why he did it. I mean he's only a teenager. And from what he's said, the military in your country is horribly corrupt."

"Yes. We were… desperate? Desperate. After… you know of the transmutation?"

"Yeah, Ed's told us about transmutations."

"No, _the_ transmutation," the boy said, shaking his head.

"No, I guess not."

"We were little. Stupid. Mother died when Brother had 5 years. I had 4. Our father had left before this. We were… lost." Al took a deep breath. Steve stared, thinking about the loss of his own mother at a young age. To think these boys… as _toddlers._ "We were desperate. We made mistake.

"We lost control of transmutation. It… was not good. I was… not dead, not truly. I was… gone. Brother was bleeding on floor, it was…" This breath shuddered.

"You don't have to—If you—I don't have to know," Steve managed painfully.

"Yes," Al said simply. "You do. It's alright.

"Brother… pulled my soul back from the Gate and bound it to a suit of armor. He… _we_ were broken. Brother was not right, in here." Al tapped his head lightly. "He took fault for what happened. When the… I not know word. Soldier-leader?"

"Mustang? Ed mentioned a Mustang. Sounded like a colonel to me, maybe."

"Colonel. When the colonel came, he told us of military and state alchemists. Told us of hope to fix our mistake. Libraries with journals from best alchemists, money for research, help from alchemists. Brother listened. Joined military. Did not let me. Brother was twelve: most young state alchemist."

"Twelve," Steve echoed softly.

"Yes. But the colonel tried to have us be safe. We research, normally. But Brother has… trouble comes to him, yes? Not safe, but no war for us. Not until the end. This is why Brother joined military: to fix 'his mistakes.' I try to tell him 'both us made mistake. I could have stopped also' but he does not listen. Even in end, I give him arm back, he trades for my body! I yell at him! Both our bodies back, that was plan." Al shook his head, then said fondly: "Brother is stupid. He cares more than should of all but him."

Steve just nodded slowly, thinking.

"If have more questions, they can wait? I think—" Al was interrupted by a yawn. "I sleep now."

"Of course. I'm sorry to bother you when you should be resting. Al waved him off.

"Come back if more questions. Is nothing. You helped us. Equivalent Exchange."

"Thank you, Alphonse."

The boy nodded tiredly, and promptly fell asleep. Steve stayed by his bed for a long while.

* * *

A week later saw the Elrics all set up on one of the many floors of the tower, though Steve figured it had less to do with _Steve_ and more to do with Tony: Ed and the billionaire had really hit it off. It seemed Ed was attempting to teach alchemy to the older man, who was constantly babbling at the intricacies and oddness of the science, seemingly undeterred by not actually being able to perform it.

"I do not think anyone from here is alchemist," Ed commented over the breakfast table one day. "If not, Stark would be transmuting by now. He has… the look? The feeling? In Amestris, would be alchemist."

By the end of their first week, Al was able to join them for meals, which both brothers were ecstatic about.

"When we get back, Winry will have to make that pie, Al. They're much better than when she first started, it's really amazing actually—"

"Brother," Al interrupted quietly, eyes fixed on the partially-eaten mountain of food left abandoned on Ed's plate. Ed's voice trailed off as he looked down at his plate himself.

"Huh," he exhaled. And just like that Al's eyes were brimming with tears and Ed had a hand on each of his shoulders, speaking rapidly in Amestrian.

Everyone else at the table looked at each other in confusion. Steve shot a glance at Tony, hoping he would know what was going on. Stark just shrugged, looking equally confused.

Al pulled himself together as suddenly as he'd fallen apart, muttering apologies as he wiped the tear tracks off of his face.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Al," Steve commented, and Al chuckled sheepishly. Ed grinned.

"I'd forgotten what a cry baby you are. Guess I'm going to have to get used to it again."

Al grinned back, still a little watery.

"Are you really not hungry?"

"Nope," Ed replied, grin still plastered to his face. Al's laugh was like bells.

"I'm _starving_!"

"I guess there's a first time for everything," Ed answered, _still smiling_.

"Would you two like to share with the class?" Tony asked wryly.

Ed waved him off. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Leave it, Tony."

"Brother," Al said softly. "It's fine. Steve already knows half of it anyway." Ed shot a glance at the super soldier, looking a bit taken aback, but relented.

"After the incident when we were kids, Al was… unable to eat, so I was eating for both of us. Strange alchemy that even I do not understand, so I won't try to explain it. We didn't figure it out for years, just thought that I was always very hungry. And tired. Turns out I was eating and sleeping for me _and_ Al."

Steve sat back in his chair, baffled as to how that was even possible.

Al looked thoughtful for a moment, then his face lit up and he exclaimed: "Maybe you'll get taller now, Brother!"

"AL! I AM NOT SHORT!"

The room roared with laughter. If Al wasn't the only one who could comment on Ed's stature without receiving bodily harm, Steve had no doubt that joke would come up _much_ more often: Ed's indignation never seemed to get old with this crowd.

* * *

Something about the conversation seemed to shake loose the grudge Ed had been holding onto over the argument they'd had, and when Steve walked into the gym to see Ed senselessly murdering punching bags the next day, hair tied up in a ponytail and metal arm glinting, he sent a quick nod Steve's way instead of ignoring him like he usually did.

"What's up?" he asked as he stepped over to the water cooler.

Steve was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea: "Up for a rematch?"

Ed looked over his shoulder as if to check if the older man was serious, then grinned.

"Hell yeah."

Steve grinned back. He'd been itching for a fight for a while, but most of the team had been out of the tower for a few days.

Apparently, Ed was antsy as well: they only circled for a moment before the younger lunged forward.

 _Damn_ , Steve had forgotten how fast the kid was. They did their level best to kill each other for a few minutes until Steve got the upper hand. He pulled a sweating, grinning Ed back onto his feet.

"Fuck, man."

Steve just laughed. "Again?"

"Again."

* * *

"None of my sources have come across anything weird. No circles, no other signs of alchemy," Fury stated.

He'd dropped by unannounced a week or so after the first time Ed and Steve sparred, seemingly for no reason, since he didn't have any news. Steve didn't buy it.

Ed just scowled. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

Ed scowled some more and stormed out of the room.

"He going to be a problem?" Nick asked, his one eye following the blond boy out.

"Ed? Nah. He just gets a little pissy sometimes," Tony responded. "He wants to go home."

"Has he said anything more about what brought him here?"

"Not to me," Steve answered, glancing at Tony.

He shrugged. "Only that his ride back is dependent on finding this other alchemist, otherwise he's stuck here. Part of the deal."

"Has he said what the deal was for?"

Tony shook his head.

"I think," Steve started, then hesitated. "I think it has something to do with Al. Remember that day at dinner?"

"Oh, yeah, that was weird," Tony replied, nodding, then explained to Nick. "Al got all freaked out, seemingly because Ed wasn't as hungry as he used to be. He said something about Al not being able to eat and Ed eating for him, which doesn't really make sense."

"Al explained it to me when he was still at the clinic, a bit. His English wasn't very good yet, so I'm not sure of some of it, but it was rough. They did something with alchemy that they shouldn't have when they were kids. It sounded like that's how Ed lost his leg, and— I could have misunderstood this—it sounded like Al lost his _entire body_. He said Ed sacrificed his arm, 'pulled his soul back,' and sealed it to a suit of armor."

Tony made a sound that fit somewhere between interested and horrified.

"Yeah."

"So, far as we can tell, the younger one's body has been in some other dimension or some shit for half a decade and the older one's been a cross-dimensional life support system?" Nick said incredulously.

"Sounds like it," Steve replied.

"And this latest deal with God or whoever was to get the kid's soul back in his body?"

"Best we can tell."

"Well, that's fucked up."

Steve couldn't agree more. Tony huffed out a dry chuckle.

The legs of Fury's chair scraped against the floor as he stood and shifted his jacket.

"I'll get back to looking. I don't like the idea of an unknown threat out there somewhere. Keep an eye on these two."

Tony scoffed. Fury gave a chilling one-eyed glare.

"Just because they look young and play nice doesn't mean they are innocent and trustworthy. How the two of you have survived this long is beyond me. Where's Romanoff?"

"Hell if I know. She hasn't been around since they showed up," Tony replied. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a paranoia problem?"

The billionaire got another glare for his efforts and Nick left, stating again to remain vigilant.

As much as he genuinely liked the Elrics, he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. God, sometimes he missed the 40s. If he had to wrap his head around one more impossible thing this week, he was done. Move to Florida, retire the modern way, it'd be great.

Steve's luck, however, stayed as awful as normal: there were several more impossible things to come before the week was out.

* * *

Steve walked up to the Elrics' rooms, trying not to let anything show on his face in case this turned out to be nothing. The boys were working through a routine recommended by Al's doctors to get him back on his feet.

Surprisingly, it was Ed that was unerringly patient and Al that was often frustrated during these routines, from what Steve had seen, the inverse of how the pair normally functioned.

"I don't know how you did this, Brother."

"Eh, I had you didn't I? Now reach. Good. A little farther."

"Hi, Steve!" Al called, spotting the captain in the doorway.

"Hey, Al. What are you up to today?"

"Nothing much. We're just finishing up, then Tony said we could visit him in the lab!"

"What are you here for, Rogers?" Ed said, eyes narrowed almost comically, seeing through Steve's small talk in an instant.

Steve put his hands in the air. "Okay, okay. We got some news. Five bodies just turned up in Oklahoma, and they're really messed up. It looks like alchemy, maybe."

"What do you mean 'messed up'?" Ed asked suspiciously.

"They're not entirely human."

"Chimeras! Dammit," Ed swore. "Al?"

Al smiled and nodded. "Go. I'll be fine."

"Thanks, Al! I'll make it up to you," Ed said, already tugging on his boots and long red coat.

"Yeah, yeah. Just get us home."

"You might want to go for something a little less conspicuous," Steve suggested as Ed headed for the door. He stopped and heaved a long-suffering sigh, giving Steve a baleful look.

"What do you people wear?"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Please read the A/N at the end. Hope you like it!

EDIT: Made some updates, added a scene, and shuffled some stuff around so a lot of what was in this chapter before will be in the final chapter. I'd appreciate any critiques, especially from those of you who read both versions.

* * *

Chapter 3

Ed stepped off the 'quinjet,' as Steve called it, feeling suitably outlandish in his newly transmuted blood-red leather jacket over black pants and a black, long-sleeved 't-shirt.' He'd had to grudgingly admit to himself that the jacket was much too big: he hadn't been sure of making one on his own, so he'd just changed the color of one of Steve's. But that was irrelevant, he still looked fucking cool.

"How are you still wearing that?" the archer asked incredulously, a faint sheen of sweat on his face.

"What?" Ed asked, confused.

"It's gotta be ninety."

"This is hot?" Ed asked, amused. "This is not hot. Gets much hotter where I grew up."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Risembool, in the east of my country. It is beautiful, but not always safe. There was war there not long ago."

"Huh," the archer said, seeming to think deeply for a simple comment. The archer confused Ed. "I'm Clint. I don't remember if we were ever introduced."

"Ed. I think the arrow was enough of an introduction," Ed said wryly.

"Hey, don't complain, kid, could've been a real one." Clint's voice was tinged with humor and Ed was relieved. Living with someone he wasn't sure wouldn't take another shot at him if given the chance hadn't been very relaxing. Luckily Clint hadn't been around much lately.

Ed clambered into the back of the waiting car as Clint slid into the passenger seat.

"How long of a drive, cap?" Clint asked, looking over at the super-soldier in the driver's seat.

"Ten minutes or so. They found the bodies just off a highway a little way out of town."

"Real classy. Not stereotypical at all."

Steve shrugged in response and glanced at Ed in the mirror as he pulled out onto the highway.

"What have you and Tony been up to in the lab recently?"

"Working on a universal translator for his suit. He wants as many languages as possible, so I've been helping out with the ones I know. And learning some new ones."

"Which new ones?" Clint asked, turning in his seat to look at Ed.

"French and Russian so far. The useful bits of Latin."

The archer whistled, impressed.

"Comment bien parles-tu le francais?" Steve asked.

"Bien pas. Je parle un peu seulement. J'ai commencé hier."

"Hier?"

"Oui," Ed responded, grinning.

"Damn, kid," Clint laughed, turning back around and shaking his head. "That the place up there?"

"Looks like," Steve answered, pulling the car onto the shoulder. "Let's go."

* * *

"C—Captain Rogers, sir, it's an honor to—I mean—it's—" the agent in charge stuttered, star-struck at the sight of Captain America, even out of the uniform.

"Settle down, agent. What's the situation here?"

"Yessir, sorry sir. They're five bodies, all young, early estimates say 18-25. Mix of males and females. They're having trouble determining the cause of death."

"Are they still here?"

"No, sir. They were sent to the morgue."

"Alright. Thank you, Agent…?"

"Bousfield, sir."

"Agent Bousfield. We'll just take a look around if you don't mind?"

The agent's eyes lingered on the flaming red of Ed's jacket, doubt coloring his face. Ed smirked.

"I suppose so, sir," the agent answered hesitantly.

"Don't worry, Agent. Major Elric here may not look it, but he's a professional."

Now Steve was giving Ed a look. He rolled his eyes and nodded. _Yes, Steve. I'll behave._

As soon as the agent stepped out of their path, Ed made a b-line for the crime scene, scanning the terrain for any signs of alchemy.

"Yep," he confirmed, grinning as he spotted the tell-tale hashmarks. "He must've moved the bodies with alchemy. Either that or he just did it to cover his tracks. All of this ground has been shuffled around."

"Why would he think that would cover his tracks?" Clint asked. "You figured it out in two seconds."

Ed huffed. "Do you know what alchemically modified material looks like?"

Clint huffed and crossed his arms. "Fair."

"We should take some samples for Stark. He might be able to isolate a difference in the transmuted ground," Steve commented.

"On it, cap," Ed responded with a mock salute. He caught a glimpse of Steve rolling his eyes as he pulled out the evidence bags Tony had given him before they left.

"Any idea of who this could be, Ed?"

"Not really," Ed started, scraping up dirt into the bags. "There was this dick Tucker, but he's dead. Scar— less of a dick, but still a dick—killed him a few years ago. Truth is, most people that know enough about human transmutation to do something like this are either crazy with grief or just plain crazy. It's a taboo, so Al and I didn't like to talk about it much; we never met most of the other people with experience in the area."

"Can you track him?" Clint asked.

Ed shrugged and sealed his last bag. "I can't, but Tony might be able to. He's got a tracker rigged up, but it only works for short distances."

"How the hell did Stark manage that?"

"He took a bunch of readings of my alchemy one day, said something about energy readings and radiation. We should get somewhere with a telephone and tell him to send it out here."

Steve raised his eyebrows and slowly lifted his cellphone to his ear. Ed huffed and rubbed his face with his normal hand.

"Don't know if I'm ever going to get used to that."

"Hold up, you don't have cellphones yet in your world?" Clint questioned.

"We've got _phones_. Just not weird little mobile ones like you lot have. Tony and I think that there must have been a point when our universes were in contact, but time doesn't move at the same pace. If we're on the same calendar, which Tony thinks we are, we must be lagging more and more behind Earth as time goes on."

"Huh. I guess that explains why you and Al have such normal names."

"You guys, too, to me. The Colonel's right hand's name is Hawkeye, same as you."

"Yeah? Bet he's not as good of a shot as me," Clint boasted with a grin.

" _She_ could definitely give you a run for your money."

"Oh, this is a girl I have to meet," Clint laughed.

"Ew, no. Pretty sure she's spoken for."

"Not like that, kid, I'm a married man."

Ed felt a pang in his chest and broke eye contact.

"Kids?"

"Three," Clint said slowly. Ed could feel his eyes on the side of his face. "Are you okay?"

"'Course," Ed said, scuffing a boot across the red dirt. "You're careful, yeah? Don't get into anything that you can't get out of?"

"I do what I have to."

Ed nodded stiffly. "I suppose that's what we all do, ain't it?"

"Listen, Ed," Clint hesitated. "If you ever want to talk… I know Tony doesn't like to talk about family."

Ed shrugged. "He wasn't family."

"Just because he wasn't blood doesn't mean he was any less family," Clint guessed.

Ed laughed. "You know, for being a dumbass, you're pretty damn smart."

* * *

Ed handled the morgue pretty well, in his opinion. Unfortunately that opinion was not shared by Clint.

Okay, yes, he might have almost thrown up, but the important word in that sentence was _almost_.

"He's trying to make a body," Ed said, breathing through his mouth.

"He's clearly got plenty of bodies," Clint commented, gesturing to the half-dozen mutilated corpses in the room.

"No, it's not—It doesn't work like that. You can't just take someone's soul and slam it into another body. The body recognizes that the soul isn't its own and rejects it. At least that's the theory. Sometimes it doesn't matter if the two belong together, even. Souls are finnicky. They don't like being moved around."

Clint raised his brow. "Souls are… finnicky."

Ed huffed. "Yes, Clint. Finnicky. Successful soul seals are practically considered miracles. I only know of four that actually worked, and all of them were blood seals—arrays drawn in blood on metal. They're much more stable than trying to work with organic material. The iron in the blood binds to the iron in the metal and usually the blood used is from the body of the soul being bound or at least a close relative. Iron calls to iron, blood calls to blood. Everything sticks better."

"Is this what Al was talking about? You pulling his soul back?" Steve asked. Ed tensed.

"Yes," he responded shortly. "I bound Al's soul to a suit of armor after an array rebounded on us when we were kids."

"That's why he couldn't eat?" Clint questioned.

"Yeah," Ed huffed. "Can we get back to the present, now? This guy's trying to bring someone back. He's mixing in animal DNA to try and get the body to lose the ability to recognize that the soul he's shoving in doesn't belong."

"Will it work?"

"No, not if the person died normally. Soul seals only work when the person is either still alive or isn't conventionally dead. Attempting to bring someone back from the dead doesn't _work_. It's not possible."

Ed caught the glance between the two older men out of the corner of his eye. Seriously, how were these people so damn perceptive? He and Al had actively hung out around people _with Al in the suit_ and no one connected the dots as well as these morons did just based on the tone of his voice. Jesus Christ. Well, it wasn't like he could get arrested for human transmutation here. Hopefully they had the tact to not bring it up.

For a moment, he felt the rain in his hair, the mud under his boots. His hands were raw from the rough wood of the shovel.

 _Nope_ , Ed thought firmly, shoving the image out of his head. _Not going to think about that._

"It doesn't really matter, anyway," Ed said, forging ahead into safer territory. "He doesn't know what he's doing. The soul seal's oriented incorrectly, and he's carving it in, which isn't really the best method. He'd be better off branding it, then letting it heal with his blood locked into the scar tissue, if he's related to— what?"

"Um, ew," Clint explained, facing the wall with his hand over his ears.

"Who's the baby now?" Ed laughed gleefully. "Too graphic for your delicate sensibilities?"

"Shut it, Elric. I'm not above switching off my aids so I don't have to put up with your whiny-ass voice."

"Children, the both of you," Steve stated dryly, reading something on his phone.

"Aw, come on, Cap, you know you love us."

"You're bickering over dead bodies," he deadpanned, then frowned at his screen. "We should go. Tony sent the tracker with one of his drones, it's waiting at the motel."

"Nice," Ed said appreciatively, rubbing his hands together. "Let's catch this son of a bitch."

"We were not bicker—"

"Shut it, Barton, you lost this round."

* * *

"You sure this is going to work?" Steve asked, taking a swig of Coke. Ed grunted through the screwdriver between his teeth. Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure if grunting is a useful form of communication in Amestris, but it sure isn't here."

Ed wiped the grease off his hands onto his jeans and spat the screwdriver into his hand. "Hell yeah it is, grandpa."

Clint laughed, Steve just smiled around the rim of his glass bottle.

"Last I checked, 1918 was after 1899, but maybe that's the Alzheimer's talking."

Ed scowled; Clint laughed harder.

"Jackasses, the both of you," Ed accused, jabbing at them with the screwdriver.

"Watch out, someone's gotten grumpy in their old age. Gonna tell us to get off your lawn next?" Clint jabbed.

Ed rolled his eyes. "I swear the world's gone to hell with your generation in charge, do either of you boys even have _jobs_?"

Steve just about choked on his Coke. Clint threw his head back and Ed cracked, chuckling and shaking his head.

 _Ping!_

"Settle down, kiddos, we just got a surge."

Clint and Steve leaned over the alchemist's shoulders.

"That's not far from here," Clint commented, pointing to the flashing dot on the digital map.

"I'll call it in."

"We don't have time," Ed said, tugging on his red jacket over the white, grease-stained t-shirt. "The others will be too late if he's doing more experiments. We need to go now."

Steve locked eyes with the younger soldier for a moment. "You can take him?"

"Not a doubt in my mind," Ed boasted. "That bastard is going down."

Steve set his jaw and gave a terse nod. "Then let's suit up. The others can take a day off."

Ed's grin was razor sharp.

* * *

Clint hung back as Ed transmuted the lock on the back door, his sharp gaze watching the field behind the house carefully. Corn could hide anyone with enough brains to use it. Whether this guy had any brains… Well, Clint wasn't the type to take chances.

The archer backed through the open doorway after the others, letting Steve take point.

"You're sure this is it?" Steve murmured, just loud enough for Clint's hearing aids to pick up.

"Pretty sure," Ed responded, just as quiet.

"It's looking pretty normal to me. You got anything, Hawkeye?"

"Male. Lives alone," Clint observed as they passed the open door to the bathroom. "Doesn't keep up with the place. Too busy?"

"Bills are all overdue," Ed commented, brushing a hand over the unopened mail strewn across the dining room table.

"Gotta clear the floor. C'mon boys." Steve headed for the next doorway, Ed prowling behind, looking more predatory than Clint had ever seen him.

* * *

Whistling echoed against the concrete walls of the basement. Ed recognized the tune. Steve and Clint didn't. They were in the right place.

Ed took a deep breath. Steve held up three fingers. Another breath before the world went too red. Two fingers. Inhale. One. Exhale.

Go!

Ed's hands slammed onto the concrete wall, blasting the material into powder, all sense of style gone. Steve was through first, Clint had an arrow already nocked. Ed stepped past the wall.

Inhale.

There were five people in the basement. Three were lying dead against the wall. One was chained in the center of an array, slumped like a ragdoll, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Cages lined the walls, filled with mangy animals: dogs, cats, a few racoons.

Inhale.

A man was standing by a machine in the corner wearing—a gas mask?

Inhale.

The edges of Ed's vision were gray.

Inhale.

Ed heard Clint's bow clatter faintly to the floor.

Inhale.

Ed lurched forward as Steve stumbled.

Inhale.

Ed didn't feel his head hit the floor.

* * *

A/N: Okay, it's been a really long time. Sorry about that. I hope you all liked this chapter, but if you see anything that could be improved, please let me know. I'll probably edit and re-post this chapter in a week or two like I did with the last one. Thanks for reading everybody!

EDIT: So the soul stuff sounded like FMA logic to me. Obviously not logic logic, but FMA logic. That's all I've got.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: It's been a while. This here's the final chapter, but maybe not quite the end for this universe. More info at the end.

* * *

There were two situations where Ed woke up without his arm and leg. One: Winry was working on them overnight and he was safe in his room at Granny Pinako's. Two: a sociopathic murderer had knocked him out and removed them.

Considering he had just been doused in ice cold water and was most definitely tied to a chair, he was pretty sure which of the two situation he had fallen into.

The Fullmetal Alchemist looked up at his captor slowly, a growl building in his chest. The man laughed.

"You know, I really thought you would be bigger."

Ed cracked his neck on either side, never breaking eye contact.

The man—alchemist—chuckled. "I never thought I'd meet the great Fullmetal Alchemist! Truly, it's an honor."

The alchemist turned and Ed took the opportunity to look for Steve and Clint. The Avengers were locked in the cage with the unconscious victims Ed had spotted earlier. Clint was still out, but Steve shook his head quickly.

Damn. The bars were too strong. Probably made alchemically. His stomach flopped queasily as he glanced at the floor around the chair: he was at the center of an array. From the look of it, a _human transmutation_ array.

Fuck.

"Did you know, my son took the State Alchemy exam the same year as you?" The man turned back to face Ed, tossing a knife between his hands. "He'd studied medical alchemy for his entire life. He swore it was going to be his year. And then a fucking twelve-year-old showed up." The man's face twisted. "Do you know how humiliating that was?"

He pressed the knife up against Ed's cheek, their faces only inches apart.

"You kill people because your son's a sucky alchemist?" Ed snarked. The knife sliced deeply, followed immediately by a sharp hit to the teenager's jaw, snapping his head back and letting loose some of the hair out of his braid. Ed aggressively spat blood as the man shook out his hand.

"My son," the older alchemist said, his back to the chair. "Was ten times the man you are, boy. Good and strong. Kinder than I ever was."

Ed's eyes widened. "Oh, you old fool," he breathed.

"Who is the fool?" the man thundered, spinning back around towards Ed without a denial. "I've not been as stupid as you were!" He gestured to the pile of automail in the corner. "I can bring him back!"

Ed clenched his jaw. "It won't work."

"Just because a little brat couldn't do it doesn't mean that I _can't_ ," the man stated, his eyes shining madly.

"Listen, old man, _it won't work_. There is no equivalent exchange for a human soul!"

"No equivalent. Well, that's just small minded, boy. I'm sure I can find the right number."

"Oh, God," Ed saw Steve whisper, looking back and forth between the two alchemists. Ed looked intently at the super-soldier, then at the cage. Steve nodded, looking sick, and turned to the bars.

"It's not one. Or two. Or three. I was hoping four would do the trick, but now—Well, you've accelerated my time-table, boy. We'll try seven today."

"If your son was the man you say he was, he wouldn't want this," Ed warned. "He'll never be able live with himself if you succeed."

The crack from the man's backhand echoed throughout the basement.

Ed spat and twisted his available wrist against the rope. "I knew a man who had lives, thousands of lives, traded for his own without his consent. He was fucking _messed up_. He _couldn't_ kill himself, but by God, that didn't stop him from trying. Think about the consequences!"

"The Gate will make him forget."

"You can't tell the Gate what to give and take, you fucking moron," Ed spat. "It does what it wants."

"Don't tell me," the man started grimly, "what I can't do."

"Listen here, you son of a bitch," Ed growled, "when you went through the Gate, Truth was distracted, I mean, epically distracted. He was losing a fucking war. If you go through again, you're fucked, your son's fucked, everyone's fucked. Truth wants you _dead_."

"Just shut up!" the man yelled, emphasizing his point with a blow to the face. Ed tried to roll with it.

"What'd you steal anyway? English? Pennies, compared to the debt you got dumped on you when you pulled one over on Truth."

"Then we'll stay here! It doesn't make a damn difference."

The man was pacing now, agitated. Ed kept twisting his wrist. If he could just keep him talking for long enough, they were golden.

"How did you know Shou Tucker?" Ed asked after a moment, unable to find another topic that would keep him occupied. The man kept pacing.

"My son researched with him for a few years, before he made his breakthrough."

"You mean killed his wife. You know that's what he did, right?"

"A necessary sacrifice to further our understanding of alchemy."

"No," Ed said. "Murder. You know that. Why else would you use his daughter's name?"

"Nina—Nina was a good girl—"

"Damn straight she was."

"It was unfortunate, what happened to her."

"It was murder," Ed stressed. "Which is what you're doing _right now_. But you don't have to. You can be better than Tucker—"

"Unfortunate," the man repeated, staring at the wall. "But necessary."

Ed's vision went red and he dragged the rope against his wrist savagely, feeling blood flow down his hand. "You _bastard._ You take that back! I'll kill you myself, you son of a bitch!"

"I'd like to see you try," the man said, circling behind him with the knife. "Unfortunately, I'm not a very patient man. I think I'll take a souvenir for my son before you die."

Ed's braid tugged against the nape of his neck.

"Oh, _fuck_ no! Get you slimy hands off my hair you perverted bastard! I will bury you in a shallow grave, I swear to God!"

The man chuckled and circled back around, a golden braid in his left hand. "I'll say it again, boy: I'd love to see you try."

Ed felt the blood dripping down his hand and hoped that his fingers knew what they were doing without his eyes to guide them. "Well, I guess it's your lucky day!"

Blue arcs of energy danced across the floor and the concrete rose up to knock the man on his back.

Ed activated the seconded array, dissolving the rope, then hastily dropped to the ground and started drawing, blood flowing down his hand from his mangled wrist. The man wouldn't be down for long. Ed slapped a hand down just as a thick metal pipe slammed into his side. He rolled onto his back just in time to deflect the second blow with his shoulder.

The pipe came down three more times, and then Steve was there.

* * *

Steve couldn't get the bars to budge. Whatever they were made of, he had never encountered it before. Clint was still out cold in the corner. Steve had no idea how long he'd been out himslef, but he figured the archer would be out for at least twice that. He was surprised at how quickly Ed had burned through it, but considering that the perp had doused him when he did, it was probably normal for Amestrians.

Steve wasn't following the majority of what the pair were saying, but he knew it was bad. The word _souls_ had come up way too many times for him to be comfortable. He figured Ed had some sort of plan, but knowing him, it was probably a stupid-ass plan.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about it because the damn bars were too damn strong.

"'at th'ell.." Clint groaned. "What happened?"

"Some sort of gas, I think. From that machine over there." Steve pointed to the machine in the corner.

"Remote activated?"

"Don't think so."

"Can—" Clint winced as Ed took a blow to the side. "Can you get through the bars?"

"I don't think so," Steve said, grimacing as he gave it another try. "I don't know what they're made of, but it's strong."

Both men flinched as Ed took another hit.

"He's baiting him on purpose," Clint observed. "What's his play?"

Steve shrugged. "He wanted me to try the bars, but I hope he wasn't counting on me getting through them."

"You figure they're made with Ed's mumbo jumbo?"

"Probably."

Clint frowned. "Remember those hash marks in the rock?"

Steve froze. "You think…?"

"The strength might be mostly vertical and horizontal, if you—"

Steve grabbed hold of a bar with both hands and _twisted_.

The bar groaned and warped but didn't break. Steve tried again and it started to splinter like pine, the fibers crackling under the torque.

Steve shook out his hands and panted: "This is going to take a while."

* * *

Clint flinched every time the bar crackled. And every time the maniac hit Ed. And every time the maniac even started to turn in their direction.

Clint was not having a good day.

The only upside to the situation was that the kid was handling their perp like a champ. From his spot in the corner, he could see the steady twisting of Ed's wrist against the rope binding it to the chair.

Steve was making progress, but he was having about as much luck at breaking the bar as the rope was at breaking Ed's wrist.

No, Clint was betting on the kid for this one, whatever his plan was.

He jerked his gaze toward the array at the center of the room when Ed yelled: "Well, I guess it's your lucky day!"

Blue lightning flashed against the basement walls and both Ed and the perp were on the ground.

"Get ready," Cap ordered, and the bars melted into the ground, too slowly for Clint's liking. Both men were out in a flash as soon as the space was big enough: Steve headed straight for Ed and the man towering over him, Clint headed for the corner holding his bow and quiver.

By the time he had an arrow knocked (which was an incredibly short time, all things considered, if you asked Clint), the perp was safely unconscious.

Ed clutched his ribs and lay his head back, panting. "Ow."

"Good work, pal," Steve stated, clapping the kid on the knee before going to check on the prisoners unconscious in another cage.

"Of course it was, jackass. My work is always good," Ed grumbled as the captain left, his eyes slowly slipping closed.

Clint wandered over to the metal limbs in the corner. "You're going to owe me a new back after lifting these things, kid," he groaned. "Damn, they're heavy."

"Quit whining." Ed forced himself to a seated position as Clint came back, his golden eyes glaring. "This is the worst day of the year. What day is it? We need to make it into a holiday and get drunk every year in remembrance of how horrible it was."

"Leg or arm first?"

Ed sighed. "Arm." Clint handed it over, looking the kid over for injuries as he slotted it into place and grit his teeth. "Leg," he grunted, holding out both hands. Clint held it out wordlessly, continuing his visual medical examination. The kid was pretty banged up: bleeding lip, wicked bruise across his left cheekbone, bloody teeth. Plus a few broken ribs, by the way he was moving as he reattached his leg. There was blood in his hair, and Clint wondered if he'd taken a hit to the head with that pipe.

From the way he was swaying, the answer was probably yes.

Clint held out a hand as soon as the prosthetic was attached, but Ed just flopped back down onto the concrete.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"He doesn't like you much, does he?" Clint asked wryly.

Ed just scowled. "Asshole."

"Me or him?"

"Both."

Clint laughed.

* * *

By the time they had gotten back to the quinjet, Steve was just about carrying Ed, the younger man trying to complain, but having to stop frequently to focus on breathing. They'd flown straight to Dr. Cho's clinic after dropping off the other prisoners with the local cops, telling the others to pick up the alchemist from there, and to bring Alphonse.

The doctor took one look at Ed and shook her head. "Again?"

Clint shrugged. "He's got shitty luck."

"Let me prep the cradle. This is going to take a few rounds."

Ed looked like hell warmed over, but Clint figured he'd be okay considering the thing he seemed the most upset about was the loss of his hair.

"You know how long it took to grow that out? _Years_ , man. Not cool," he'd said to the perp as soon as he'd woken up. "Also you're a son of a bitch and I hope Truth skins you alive. Which he probably will. He was awful mad."

Yeah, Clint figured he'd be okay.

"Mr. Hawkeye?"

Clint turned his head toward Alphonse, who was wheeling down the hall towards him at Mach speed.

"Hey, Al, you looking for Ed?"

"Yes, sir," the boy answered, scowling.

"They're prepping him for the cradle, he's in that room there. They're worried about his lung collapsing before he gets in, so I'd hurry if I were you."

"Thanks."

Hoo boy, Ed was in for a doozy.

Sure enough, the yelling in Amestrian started as soon as Al entered the room.

* * *

"Why the hell didn't you wait for backup, you idiot!"

"Al, come on, I thought—"

"No, you didn't think, which is always your problem. Do you even have anything inside that thick skull?"

"Al, I'm okay—"

"Okay?" Al yelled shrilly, moving out of the way for one of the nurses. "This is not okay! You could've _died_!"

"I know, Al," Ed placated. "I was really stupid, okay? You're right. Now get over here, punk."

The brothers latched on to each other and didn't let go until the nurses started to get antsy.

"Oh, Brother," Al lamented when they finally detached. He was looking down at his white shirt, now spotted with Ed's blood.

"Hey, it's okay. This fancy machine thing will fix me up in no time. The future is amazing!"

Al apparently wasn't ready to be cheered up.

"Are you really okay, Brother? Honestly?"

"No." Ed picked at the waistband of his fresh blue pants. "But I will be, Al. My hair will grow back eventually," he said, sighing dramatically.

"You are so vain," Al teased.

"All a man has is his hair, Al," Ed mused, his eyes slipping closed.

Alphonse sighed. "Goodnight, brother."

* * *

"Dr. Cho says he'll make a full recovery," Steve informed.

" _That's good to hear,"_ Tony responded over the coms, relief evident in his voice. _"I should've just come anyway, when you called. The suit would've filtered out whatever the hell that compound was. How much did you say it affected you?"_

"Mostly surprised me, shook it off in a minute or two. Just long enough for him to move me into the cage."

" _Still that's not normal. I'll have to talk to Ed about exactly how weird of shit an alchemist can cook up. Clint said he'd never gotten hit that hard with anything. And Clint gets knocked out on like a bi-weekly basis."_

"He's got shit luck, I guess."

" _No kidding."_ Tony paused. _"Asshole's locked up tight. You still at Cho's?"_

"No, I just got to the Tower. Clint's staying with the boys."

" _Roger that."_

Tony hung up and Steve sighed, the door to his apartment opening as he walked up with a quiet "Welcome back, Captain" from Friday.

"Heard the kid got worked over."

Steve shook his head, smiling at the voice from the kitchen. "Hey there, Nat. Was wondering where you got to."

"Hey yourself." Steve could practically hear the smirk. "He'll be alright?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Natasha nodded. "He'll pull through, Steve. Kid's tough. Plus, something tells me this wasn't his first rodeo."

Steve nodded, sighing. "What are you up to, Nat?"

The spy took a sip from the mug of tea she had clearly _made in his kitchen_.

"Found your boy," she said, and Steve immediately ceased caring about the privacy issue. "He's in Romania, checked it out myself. Wanted to be sure before I got your hopes up."

"Did you talk to him?" Steve asked, a thousand possibilities running through his head at once.

Nat shook her head. "He would've run, I think. You might be able to make contact."

"Nat, I—Thank you," Steve said sincerely.

"My pleasure," Natasha answered from behind her mug. "I wouldn't worry about getting there immediately. He's pretty entrenched. Has an apartment, job, the works. See the kid off, before you go."

Steve nodded absently. "Of course."

* * *

As soon as the doctor let Ed loose, he went to ask Tony if he could use the roof of the Tower for the array.

"'Course, kid, it's yours for the taking. You sure about this, though? You could stick around, see the sights a bit."

"We've gotta go back, Tony. Everyone there probably thinks we're dead. You damn well better be working on a portal, though."

The billionaire laughed. "Kid, I've been working on a portal since the day you walked into my lab."

Steve came up to the roof as Ed was starting to chalk.

"So what are you going to occupy your time with once I'm not around to apologize to?" Ed laughed, bumping shoulders (well, not Steve shoulder, more like his elbow, but who was counting?) with the older man.

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm going to Romania to drop in on an old friend."

Ed looked at him sharply, recognizing the half-truth. "They know you're coming?"

"Er, not really?" Steve answered rubbing the back of his neck.

Ed just shook his head. "Good luck. I have a feeling you're going to need it."

Clint was sitting on the edge of the roof when Ed finished the array, eating one of Thor's poptarts. He handed Ed one as he walked up.

"Heading home, then?"

Ed nodded. Clint looked over the skyline.

"You take care of yourself, kid."

The redhead appeared to sit next to Clint.

"Um, sorry for the day we met," Ed said awkwardly. "I never got the chance to say it before."

The woman looked at him and he felt like he was under a microscope. "Don't sweat it, kid. You had your back to the wall."

Tony brought Al up just as Ed was going to go get him. Steve was dropping the alchemist in the center of the array, sedated.

"You ready, Brother?" Al asked. Ed looked around the roof. The whole team had assembled, minus the red guy, the scary brunette, and the winged guy, who were training upstate. He was surprised at the pang of sadness he felt. If there were a way to merge the two worlds, he realized, he would.

"As I'll ever be," he sighed after a moment. "Let's go."

He saluted lazily towards the crowd, then placed his hands on the edge of the circle. They were good people, but he was damn ready to go home. Maybe have a long conversation with Winry.

The circle lit up.

"Hello, Mr. Al-chem-ist."

* * *

Well, that was that. Tony sighed. He'd really liked the kid. Maybe he'd talk to Jane Foster about portals, she might be able to speed things up. Hell, maybe Thor would know something. The readings from this transmutation would help, hopefully. Friday hadn't been able to collect and save all the data from their arrival.

Steve was already headed for the elevator, off to chase his assassin best friend around the globe again. Clint didn't look like he planned on moving from his perch anytime soon. Nat was headed his way. Maybe he'd just call Jane right now, what time was it in—

"Boss, the portal is opening again."

"What?" Clint said, suddenly off the lip of the roof.

"Repeat that, Friday?"

Steve had turned around. Natasha pulled out her gun.

"The portal is about to open, boss."

"From where? On the roof? Who's in it?" Tony rattled off, transforming his watch into a repluser.

"The readings are identical to the partials from the Elrics' arrival, boss. It will open in approximately five seconds exactly over the array. There's no way of knowing who's coming."

"Everybody get ready."

"You think it's Ed?"

"He wouldn't come back this soon."

"I've got a bad feeling about—"

The sky split open and a short-haired, red-clad figure landed like a cat and came up yelling.

"Truth, you son of a bitch! Take me back! We had a fucking deal!"

"Kid, what happened?" Tony asked incredulously, lowering his gauntleted hand.

"Two tickets! Two tickets back to Amestris, he said! How was I supposed to know he was counting the _fucking criminal_! You're a fucking cheat, Truth! You hear me, asshole?!"

"Elric, slow down," Natasha ordered. "What happened?"

"When I made the deal, he said I'd get two tickets back to Amestris. Two tickets!"

"One short, counting Roswell," Steve concluded, running a hand through his hair.

"I figured he'd just kill him, the bastard had already crossed Truth once, but noooo, 'I don't interfere with the nature of worlds, Mr. Alchemist.' Like hell you _don't_ , Truth!"

"Ed—Ed!" Tony raised his voice as Ed continued to yell at the sky. "How are you going to get home?"

The alchemist spun around to face Tony, his coat swirling behind him. He clutched his hair with both hands, his face panicked.

"I have no idea."

* * *

However many years ago I started this story, I put that line in about 'two tickets' and knew how this was going to end, but I still wasn't prepared. Still, Truth's too much of a jackass to let Ed off that easily and how could I resist the possibility of a Metal Arm Club? No promises on the rapidity of the sequel, but there will be one eventually, with parallel story lines of Steve and Ed looking for Bucky in Romania and Al's adventures back in Amestris, probably with Mustang, because Mustang's great.

Thanks for waiting an ungodly length of time for this, and let me know how you like it!


End file.
